Time
by StolenRookie
Summary: When something happens to Andy that no one sees coming, all Sam can do is helplessly watch and hope they make it through this. T for swearing.
1. Welcome Home Sam Swarek

**I know I should be updating Years and NOT be making another multichapter but BLAH I want to :P and plus I still can't finish my chapter yet. **

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><p>As thrilled as he was to be going home, Sam Swarek was dreading the idea of seeing his kitchen again.<p>

It had been four months since he'd last seen it, and even longer since he'd cleaned it. God only knew what had grown there while he'd been undercover. He hoped Andy, or anyone for that matter, found his key and cleaned it for him before some thing of a biological threat started growing there.

_Home still beats the streets_, he thought, shifting in his seat, turning to the window.

Through the occasional break in the clouds outside he could see patches of the blue-gray sky above. Bright, early morning sunlight reflected off the clouds, blinding him. He turned away, blinking as dark spots appeared in his vision.

"I hear it's s'posed to rain today, for the next few days really." a shacky but deep voice beside him said. Sam looked to his left as an older man sat heavily into the aisle seat. The man was withered and wrinkly, he reminded Sam of his Great-Grandfather.

"Never thought I'd say it, but I can't wait." The man continued. It was a hot summer's day and Sam could honestly admit that he had no memory of the last time it rained.

"Rain could be a nice change of pace," Sam commented calmly.

"Of course," The old man continued, apparently talking more to himself than Sam, "just about anything would be nice after this heat. I was starting to go crazy." He shook his head and laughed a weezing laugh.

"Yeah?"

"Shit. Yeah." He shuddered.

Chuckling, Sam nodded _Yup deffenitley like my Great-Grandfather!_ he thought to himself as he chuckled.

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><p>Half an hour later, the bus came to a slow stop a block away from Sam's house.<br>Rain pounded against the bus as it braked, slowed, and finally taxed to a stop.

Sam fidgeted in the aisle, fighting the wait until the doors open and he was free to go. He just wanted his life back, he wanted his job, his friends, his family and he knew he was going to finally tell Andy how he felt. Screw the state of his kitchen; he just wanted to go home.

"Bet we're lucky," The old man said, leaning over Sam's shoulder to look out the front window.  
>"If this were any worse, I don't think we'd have been on this bus in the first place."<p>

"Probably." Sam agreed.

The door opened with a shish and clunk and Sam slowly made his way off the bus. He gave a quick wave to the old man before getting off the bus.

_Oh,_ _my phone. _Sam thought suddenly, pulling out his old cell phone Frank gave back moments ago. As he was walked he flipped it open, expecting no missed calls or messages. The rain splashed onto the screen as he walked, making it harder to ready the words. Sam rubbed the phone on his pant leg and cupped his hand around the screen as a sheild. Looking at it closely, he saw he'd missed a couple of calls.  
>One was from Andy and the other was from a number he didn't recognize. Without bothering to check the voicemail one of the callers had left, he pressed 3 for his speed dail, held the phone to his ear, and waited.<p>

_No luck, voicemail._

_Must be at The Penny,_ he thought, making a mental note to check his voicemail once he got home and to do the dishes.  
>He closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket and continued walking.<p>

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><p>Sam couldn't help but grin to himself, as he walked up the front steps to his house and unlocked the door.<br>It was good to be home.

He was only a few steps into his house when his phone began to ring, vibrating in his pocket. Sam fumbled for his phone, counting off the rings - he only had seven before it went to voicemail - he yanked his phone from his pocket and flipped it open just in time. "Hello?"

"Sam Swarek?" The voice was fuzzy with static likely interference from the rain and not one he recognized.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Swarek, my name is Katherine Young. I'm a doctor at the Victoria Mercy Hospital. I have you listed as the emergency contact for an Andy McNally. Is that correct?"

Sam blinked a few times, surprised. "Yes," he said, finally finding his voice again.

The doctor sounded relieved. "Okay. Good. Well, she's here at the hospital with us. We've been trying to reach you, and she's been asking for you."

"What?" Sam's brain had been stumbling over the 'emergency contact' bit, and was only just starting to catch up. "The hospital? Why?"

"It would really be best if you could come here, Mr. Swarek."

"...Okay?" Sam ran a hand through his hair, "Okay. I can " He craned his neck, trying to see through the rain and out onto the street. "Uhmm... I''ll need to get gas for the truck, but tell her I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'll be sure to let her know. Thank you, Mr. Swarek."

Sam hung up his phone with just a faint, goodbye. The hospital? What is she doing there?

And then he remembered the voicemail, and the call he'd missed from her.  
>How long ago had she called? For one reason or another, his phone was incapable of telling him which number had left him a voicemail unless he was already listening to it, so there was no way for him to know whether it was from Andy or the hospital.<br>Flipping his phone open once more, he hastily punched in the buttons necessary to call his voicemail up, then pressed the phone to his ear.

"Sam?" The voice was neither Andy's nor Dr. Young's, and tinged with raw panic. Sam pressed his phone closer to his ear.  
>"God, I hope you're the person she was asking for. You, uh, don't know me but I'm one of Andy's Andy McNally's neighbors. She's, uhm, she's had an accident."Sam's heart froze and his grip automatically tightened on his phone.<p>

An accident? That was more than the doctor at that stupid hospital had given him.  
>What kind of accident? A hundred different scenarios began rushing through his head, distracting him, he nearly missed the rest of the message.<p>

"She was asking for you, said you just got back and that she wanted to see you - before she left with the EMTs - at least, I thought it was you " The message cut off there, ending with a beep. Sam closed his phone without deleting the message and slipped it back into his pocket.

_Don't overthink it_, he told himself, laughing darkly at the irony, as he turned and flung his front door open. The doctor said she's been asking for you. The message said she asked for means she's conscious. It means it's not serious.

Please, don't let it be serious.

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><p>What felt like an eternity later, Sam finally found himself at the hospital. He dumped his truck in the first available spot and rushed for the emergency entrance. Once inside, he scrambled for the intake desk, hitting it with all of the force of a small hurricane. "Andy McNally, where is she?" He demanded gruffly.<p>

The nurse behind the desk looked at him, her expression hard. Rising to her feet, she reached for a stack of charts piled before her and began rifling through them. Her movements were painfully selecting one, she began to pull it from the stack...Only to stop when it was barely halfway out from under the pile.  
>She looked back up at him, tilting her head to one side and scrutinizing him closely. "Are you family?"<p>

"I'll take it from here, Jackie. That was my case." Sam and the nurse both looked up as a young woman wearing a doctor's coat extended one slim hand, reaching for the file. The nurse handed it over.

"You got here faster than I expected given the rain," the doctor said to Sam, offering him a warm smile as she pulled Andy's file in towards her chest. "I'm Dr. Young."

"Sam Swarek," Sam replied, for lack of a better idea as of what to say.

Dr. Young was slim wearing blue scrubs. Her last name fit her looks though, she loooked young maybe 25 or so, her long brown hair was pulled back into a low pony-tail. She had dark green eyes that Sam could tell got darker though her experiences on the job. Dr. Young moved away from the desk, motioning with a tiny jerk of her head for Sam to follow.

"You got here just in time. We just finished getting her a room, and were about to take her upstairs."

"She's being admitted?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's just for observation." Dr. Young said simply as she stopped just outside a door.

Sam opened his mouth to ask for more information, but Dr. Young held up a hand and motioned towards the door.  
>"She's just inside. I'm going to get an ETA on her trip upstairs, okay?" She smiled. Though it seemed bright and cheerful, Sam could see a bit of pain behind her eyes.<p>

Then she strode past him and back down the hall, leaving Sam standing dumbly just outside room One-Nineteen. The door was open just a crack, just enough that he could see inside. Andy was in a hospital gown, her lower body covered by a blue knit blanket. An IV line trailed from her arm to a bag hanging on a metal pole beside her bed, and she had a cardiac monitor clipped onto one hand. She was sitting upright and didn't look hurt, though she was kind of pale. A girl of about twenty was sitting on the far side of the bed, sandwiched in the space between it and the wall. She didn't look like a nurse.

"Who're you?" He demanded guardedly as he pushed into the room, glaring hard at this stranger. She stared at him, clearly confused.  
>Her tone was defensive as she said, "Nicole Berry? I'm her neighbor."<br>Andy looked at him. "She called nine-one-one, Sam. And you."

_Oh. Well._

Sam turned to apologize, but Nicole was already waving him off. "Never mind. I'm gonna go grab some coffee."  
>She gave Andy's shoulder a gentle squeeze before getting up and walking to the door.<br>She paused just inside the doorway and pointed at Sam before adding, "I'll bring you decaf." And with that, she was gone, leaving Sam and Andy alone in the room.  
>Sam's gut twisted, as he turned back to Andy.<p>

"You're slow," she chided with a small, smile. "Nicky called you almost three hours ago. But I'm glad you're back."

She's okay. She's gotta be okay. Nicole probably just overreacted and called nine-one-one without really needing to.  
>And they're just admitting her to cover their asses. Having reassured himself, if nothing else, Sam raised a hand and said, grinning, "Hold on, I have the perfect excuse: I just got home, back from talking with Boyd and Best about my case. I had to get gas on the way here AND then there were a lotta people wrecked out on the highway on the way here. You'd think no one knew how to drive in the rain?" Sam pulled up a metal stool and sat down with a small smile.<p>

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her again. "Andy, what happened?" Her gaze dropped, her head and shoulders drooping as she shrank back into her pillow. Sam felt his stomach sink. Something is wrong. Oh, God, something really is wrong.

Softly, Andy said, "I had a seizure."

A seizure?

"A what? But why?"

"The doctors say it's not unusual."

"A seizure isn't unusual? What the hell are they on?" Sam rose to his feet, ready to storm back to that lobby and start yelling. "'A seizure's not unusual' my ass! You're a perfectly healt- "

Andy reached up and grabbed his arm, cutting him off, and said, "They say it's not unusual with what I have." Her hands so much paler than usual, so much coolder and tinier than he remembered, so much weaker than they ought to be tightened on his forearm. All of the anger in him disapeared with that simple gesture. Andy was scared. Whatever the hell was going on, she was terrified. Sam unclenched his fists, letting his arms fall limply at his sides. He found himself looking at her hands instead of her eyes. There was no good way this conversation could end: she was in the hospital without visible injuries after having a seizure.

Andy continued quietly, "They ran some tests."

Sam didn't say a word.  
>He just kept looking at her hands.<p>

Her voice was thick with tears as she finally said, "It's cancer, Sam. I have cancer."

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><p><strong>Sssssssshhhh BOOM!<br>And that my friends was the sound of the bomb Andy just dropped.**

**I hope you guys liked it! :DDDD  
>Review letting me know! <strong>


	2. The Countdown Has Begun Sam Swarek

**Wow! Thank you guys for all the reviews and alerts for this story and my others! It was amazing to wake up and find out I had over 30 emails about this story alone! :DDD**

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><p>A malignant, inoperable glioblastoma.<p>

Cancer.

Brain cancer.

It had been two weeks since her diagnosis and Sam was still having trouble making sense of it.  
>Was this really how she was going to die? Andy McNally, dying of cancer? She was a Poice Officer, for God's sake! She'd survived beeing shot, trapped in a burning building, a serial kill chocking her and countless dangers, and this was how she was going to die?<p>

Fucking cancer?

According to Doctor Green - the oncologist Andy had started seeing after her diagnosis - the treatment options for this type of cancer were limited. Given its size and location, surgery was off the table. That left Andy with chemo and radiation therapies as her only real options. Even then, they could only do so much. They might buy her a few weeks, a few months, but there was no cure, and in the end...

In the end Andy was going to die.

Fucking cancer.

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><p>"Sam Swarek. That you?" Sam looked up, startled out of his reverie. A man in his late thirdys was standing just before him, wearing jeans and a red t-shirt. Though he'd gained a bit of a belly since Sam had last seen him, he still knew him and knew him well.<p>

"Oliver Shaw," he breathed, grinning. Getting to his feet, he stepped into Oliver's proffered hug.

"Long time no see, brother."

"No kiddin'," Oliver replied, letting him go and taking a step back. He looked Sam up and down. "You put on some muscle since I last saw you. Did they make you work out on the street Sammy?"

"Not half as hard as you guys ever did." Oliver chuckled, looking Sam over again.

"Might wanna check they didn't slip you steroids there, Sammy."

Now it was Sam's turn to laugh. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, "It's great to see you, Ollie. McNally'll be glad to see you, too."

Oliver's expression faltered and just like that the good mood was gone. He turned and looked down the hall, towards Andy's room at the end.  
>"How is she?" His voice was heavy. He sounded old much older than he really was and worn. Though they spoke often during his case, Sam hadn't actually seen Oliver since he went under four months ago.<p>

"When I left, she was a little out of it from the chemo," he said, unconsciously running his hands down his thighs as if wiping away sweat or blood from his palms.  
>"But I think she's doing okay, overall." Sam flexed his jaw. "More or less."<p>

Oliver looked down the hall again. His face was set. "How long?"

"If she responds well to treatment, maybe six months."

"Christ." Oliver ran a hand down his face and tilted his head back so he was staring at the ceiling. "Christ."

"She's a fighter," Sam said, lifting his shoulders and dropping them in a feeble shrug. He knew he was stating the obvious, like Andy McNally was going to give up, roll over, and die but he had nothing else. Oliver didn't say anything for several seconds, he just kept staring at the ceiling.

_We can face down an army of any criminal in this city_, Sam thought suddenly, _but this..._ Oliver interrupted before he could finish that thought. "You know, somehow I'd..." He took a deep breath, his eyes never once leaving the tiled ceiling, "Somehow I'd managed to convince myself that the next time I actually saw you two it'd be at your wedding." Sam stiffened, his gaze locking on a poster hanging on the wall across from him. He stared without blinking at the bold words at the top, the ones telling him about the link between a patient's well being and a positive attitude, but he didn't reply. He couldn't reply.

What would he even say? 'Yeah, sorry about that, Oliver, but I hadn't exactly figured she'd get cancer before we got the chance to tie the knot?'

He didn't even have to ask where Oliver had gotten the idea of the two of them getting together. The bullpen back at the 15 Divison was quite close, and it wasn't easy to hide any kind of office-flirtation (which was how everyone knew when Luke hooked up with Jo Rosati, for instance). If anything, he and Andy had gotten off easy: the others seemed to assume his and Andy's relationship, or eventual relationship, was a given, though Jerry used to give him so much shit for not making a move on her yet. And the truth was he'd been in love with her for a long time. He'd wanted to marry her for a long time. Hell, he still did there was no past tense about it. But he'd kept telling himself to wait. Wait until thing she's not your rookie. Wait until she broke up with Luke. Wait until things died down from her break up with Luke. Wait until she stopped hurting over Luke's cheating. Wait and pray that she didn't find someone else in the meantime.  
>And then when it was all over, he'd ask her out. They could have a normal relationship.<p>

Andy getting cancer nobody had planned on that. How could we? We'd always figured it'd be on duty, knowing her luck.  
>If we died because of anything, it would be because of our job.<p>

_And now it's too late_, he thought, his hands clenching into tight fists. _Now it's too late and there's nothing I can do and Andy is going to die._

Fucking cancer.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Oliver said, interrupting again.

"No, it's okay." Sam took a deep, steadying breath, let his hands fall loose at his sides, and forced a smile.  
>He jerked his head down the hall. "Come on. I told her I'd be back in just a few minutes..." He looked at his watch. "...almost twenty minutes ago."<p>

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><p>The blinds were wide open in Andy's room, letting the warm spring sunshine in. Sam and Oliver slipped quietly inside, taking care not to disturb her as they did.<br>Andy's eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. She looked like she was asleep, but as the door clicked behind them she asked, "You get lost or something?" Sam grinned. "Nah. I ran into someone. Take a look." Andy opened her eyes. "Oliver!" she said, her expression brightening. She sat up, and Sam darted over to steady her. She leaned against him without question and continued, "It's been a while! How are you?"

"I should be asking you that."

"I'm alive. That's good enough for now." Andy reached out for a hug, and when Oliver obliged she added, "How're Zoe and the kids?"

Oliver trotted over to the window and took a look out. "Good, good."

"Plan on bringing them here for a visit?"

"Are you kidding? They wont stop asking me! Zoe has been itching to bake you a pie and bring it here with the kids, and Racheal..." He motioned to Andy. "Racheal wanted to see you." Racheal was Oliver's oldest daughter, she looked up to Andy like a big sister. "Not today though. I hadn't heard much on how you were doing, so I told them I'd see if you were up to it."

"Oh. They could've came. I'm okay. Just a little tired."

"Have the nurses been by since they hooked up your IV?" Sam asked.

"Carla came by just after you left." Andy smiled wryly and turned to Oliver. Cupping a hand around her mouth she said quietly, "She likes to call him the Mother Hen behind his back. For the way he's always hovering around." Oliver laughed, looking at Sam out of the corners of his eyes.  
>"That sounds like him."<br>Sam opened his mouth to argue, but stopped. There wasn't really anything he could say to that. So he simply shrugged, smiling sheepishly Andy reached her good arm around his back and gave him a hug. "Will that get me a hug every time?" he murmured. "'Cause I'd like that."

"We'll see."

"So tell me, Sammy," Oliver said suddenly, kindly reminding them both that he hadn't gone anywhere in the past thirty seconds, grabbing a stool from the corner of the room and setting it down closer to the bed. "What have been doing these past few weeks? I haven't seen you around the station."

"When I'm not here? Mostly laying low and tieing up the lose ends of my last case." He shook his head. "Half the Gun and Gangs is convinced I forgot something." Oliver nodded.

"Have you heard from any of the others?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "Other then Frank and Noelle, I spoke to Jerr a couple days ago." Sam would have gone on; told Oliver more about his case, but he was interrupted by a faint knock on the door. It opened, and a short, slim, Latino woman stepped inside. "Oh," she said, her gaze falling on Oliver, "And here's another one. Andy, you've sure got a lot of friends."

"Hey, Carla. This one's Oliver. We work together. Oliver, this is my nurse, Carla."

"One of her nurses, at least. We've got a small army here," Carla hooked a loose strand of curly black hair behind her ear and put her hands on her hip, "How you feeling?"

"I'm all right," Andy said with an exasperated sigh.

"Don't gimme that tone," Carla said, her voice was stern, but she was smiling. It faded quickly, however, as she added, "You're gonna get people asking you up and down how you're doing, and being able to say you're all right is a good thing. You're not nauseous at all? Feeling any pain?"

"No."

"Good."

"I think she looks a little pale," Sam said.

Andy gave him a look. "I'm fine," she insisted.

"I'm on his side for once. You do look pale," Carla checked the IV, clicking her tongue against her teeth, "You might be getting a little anemic. I don't want to do it now, since we've got a bit of time before you can even think about getting outta here and back to your real life, but I'm going to need to take some blood before you leave tomorrow."

"Why aren't you doing it now? If she is anemic, it's better to know sooner, isn't it? Then you can do something about it." Sam demanded.

"I wanted to give her spend some time a little longer with you and Oliver, without a nurse getting in the way." Carla sighed. "Andy, I don't know how you put up with this one."

Andy chuckled and said softly, "Thanks, Carla, but you might as well draw it now. He's not going to stop until you do." Wagging a finger at Sam, Carla went on, "You just make sure you don't tire her out too much, you understand? She needs someone to support her, not hen-peck the doctors about every little thing. We got support groups if you want the chance for all of that. You understand?"

"Yes, Carla." Sam said, looking down like a scolded school boy. Which earned a light smile from Andy.

"Good. 'Cause I haven't got the time to make sure you don't run everyone else completely insane."

"I won't, Carla."

She snorted. To Andy, and said, "You have fun with the boys. I'll be back in a few minutes." Shortly after Carla had come in to check on Andy, Sam had watched Oliver slip off his stool and step out into the hallway. Now that she was leaving, he came back inside. Sam saw him slip his phone back into his pocket. "That was Zoe," he said.

"You gotta go?" Andy asked. Her voice was softer than it had been, and Sam realized that the circles under her eyes were growing even more pronounced.

"Yeah." Oliver leaned in and gave her a hug. "I'll be back in the morning, if you're feeling up to it."

"Bring the girls along."

"I will." Oliver stepped back. Meeting Sam's eyes, he continued, "Zoe wanted you to come along with us. We're going to dinner."

"Oh. Ollie, tell her thanks, but... " Sam looked from Oliver to Andy and back again. She was looking worse by the minute.

"She insisted. Told me to use force if I have to. She wouldn't budge even when I told her that force probably means nothing against you."

"Go, Sam," Andy said sternly. At least, she tried to be stern, but her voice wavered and cracked.

"McNally, I don't want to leave you here. "

"Sam," Andy's voice was still shaky, but sharp, "Stop. It's okay. I'm all right," She sank back against the pillows, "You should go to dinner. Go to dinner and go home and get some sleep."

"I'm not leaving."

Andy would have none of this tonight. Pressing one hand over her eyes she said, "Sam, go. I'm not going to die tonight. But I would like to get some rest." His stomach twisted at her words. He wanted to smile and mean it. But he could only force the expression, not the emotion, as he asked, "You promise?"

"Get out. I'll see you later." She chuckled, flicking her hand at the door, grinning. Sam slunk towards the door after Oliver, but lingered just inside the doorway.

"Tomorrow."

She waved a hand, but her eyes, peering out at him from under her hand, were brighter than they had been and her smile stronger as she said, "Fair enough." Sam smiled.

I love you, Andy McNally.

He wished he could bring himself to say the words.

Now, before it was too late.

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><p>When he finally got back to his apartment that night, full and so tired he almost fell asleep right there in his parked Truck, Sam planned to shower, put his feet up for a few hours, maybe watch some TV for a while, and go to bed in that order. As soon as he opened the door, however, he noticed three things very quickly. First, the lights in his living room were on. Second, his kitchen was spotless. Third, his sister was sitting on the couch, watching some cop show on TV.<p>

"I was wondering where you were," Sarah said, getting to her feet.

"Sarah?" Sam frowned, squinting at her in confusion. "When did you get here? better yet how did you get in?"

"It's nice to see you, too, Sammy," She put a hand on her hip with a grin and held up one of his spare keys, the one he liked to keep in the never-fixed light by his front door, "You need to find better places to hide these things. I'm going to assume you've got the other in the vent just outside the door?"

"That's none of your business."

"It is if I can find it." She laughed, her faint dimples showing.

"You're my sister. I'd expect you to be able to find it." Sam was tempted to take the key back from Sarah, but decided to let her keep it. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then abruptly crossed the room and dropped onto the ottoman and began unlacing his shoes.

"I told you I was coming. Don't you remember?" Sarah said suddenly. Sam didn't remember having that conversation. At all. Actually, he didn't remember having any contact with his sister since before he went under. Running a hand down his rough, stubbly face, he asked heavily, "What day?"

"Last Monday." Sarah's voice was soft.

_Oh._ _Monday..._ Sam wracked his stress-addled, sleep-deprived, caffeine-overloaded brain, trying to remember. Andy started chemo that Monday. No wonder he didn't remember the conversation. Well, even if he couldn't remember having it, it still sounded like something he'd say. He wouldn't turn down his sister, anyway. "You look like hell," Sarah noted, by way of changing the subject.

"Really? Because I always thought women dug the scruffy look." Sam forced a joking smile as he finally reached out to his sister for a hug. Sarah rolled her eyes, but accepted the hug anyway. "Have you been sleeping?" Sam gave his head a little shake and replied, "Is it that obvious?"

"Don't forget I spent seventeen years of my life with you. I know you."

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

"You are not fine. I might be your Older sister but that doesn't mean I'm stupid or blind or..." Sarah trailed off as Sam cocked an eyebrow at her before throwing up her hands and snapping, "It's kind of an instinctive thing, okay? I can't help it," After a brief pause, she added, "You need to get some sleep. And eat right. How long has that bread been sitting there, anyway? It was a mold factory. If any of that was penicillin you could've made a small fortune off it."

"I take it you cleaned the kitchen, then?"

"Of course I cleaned it. It was disgusting. I thought I saw it move when I walked in."

Sam only nodded, dropping his head and staring at his hands. Though he loved that she'd come to see him, and was glad to have her, having Sarah around wasn't going to do much to help. Between her and Oliver it was like the start of a reunion for his four month apsence. But she were only here because Andy was dying - Andy had met Sarah a couple months before Sam went under and they practicly became sisters after that - The countdown had begun and everyone was just trying to make the most of what little time they had left with Andy now. Sarah came over to the ottoman and dropped down beside him. She put an arm around his back, hooking it over his right shoulder while she leaned against his left. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so, so sorry." When he didn't reply, she asked, "How is she?"

"Anemic and hating the chemo. She was throwing up when I called at dinner."

"Don't they have drugs to help treat the nausea?"

"Yeah, but it's the first time she's ever reacted badly to it. The other times, she was just fine," He took a breath, but his chest was tight and only let in little air.  
>His stomach twisted and Sam covered his face with this palms, dragging them down along his cheeks, before he tried to breathe again. This time it came easier, but he still felt sick. "Oliver came in to see her today. You remember Oliver Shaw?"<p>

"Yeah," Sarah had met the Shaws once, way back, at one of the Divison's annual picnics. "They have two little girls."

"Three; Hailey, Racheal and Becky..." He trailed off, and they sat in silence for a few moments. "You been talking to Scott much?" Scott had been Sarah's boyfriend before Sam left, they were going through a rough patch because Sarah had fond out he was still in love with his ex Amy. Sarah sighed, "No more than usual."

"Why don't you ask him to lunch or something? You two could talk about it?"

"Relationship advice. Coming from you?" Sarah chuckled and shook her head. She didn't actually give him an answer right away, and Sam wondered if he'd hit a nerve accidentally. He was just about to apologize when she cut him off, saying, "Scotts's still working on the A's, and hasn't even found anyone in the B's yet. I'm a S. It'll be a while."

"What?"

"If you don't get it, I'm not going to spell it out for you...Oh. That was a terrible pun." Sarah stood up and stretched, yawning. "I dumped my stuff in the other bedroom."

"That's fine."

"Good. I'm stealing the bathroom for a bit."

"All right."

Sarah shuffled off towards the bathroom, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair and turned to the TV, staring at it blankly before getting up and flopping out on his couch, grabbing the remote as he fell. He flicked through channels, lingering for just a few seconds longer on the news. He watched the stocks scroll past on the bottom of the screen, he watched a random news story flash on the screen, not really caring. Just one fucking thing after another, isn't it?  
>With a growl, Sam turned off the TV and threw the remote at the chair. It bounced off the back cushion and onto the floor, skidding to rest somewhere under the ottoman. He did not move to get it. Closing his eyes, Sam lay back against the couch's arm, covering his face with one of his own.<p>

First he gets arrested by a doe-eyed rookie from his own divison and then he gets partnered with her. He watches her make mistake, after mistake. Putting herself in harms nearly every week, making his heart race with worry each and every time. Then he starts falling in love with her, but can`t do anything because of that stupid rookie-T.O rule. Has to watch her trot around with Callaghan, get engaged and watch her crumble when it explodes in her face, wanting to wave a magic wand and fix her problems. But he can`t so he has to watch and wait for her to fix herself. And now here he was laying on his couch hoping to some god would help her get past this, help him get past this with her. He wanted her pain to end soon and to see her live.  
>He wanted to finally tell her how muc she meant to him.<p>

All he knew was that it wasn't going to end soon enough. It wasn't going to end soon enough and even if she managed to go into remission tomorrow, he didn't know if he was going to have enough time left to make up for all the years he'd wasted. And if she relapsed? There has to be something he could do.  
>He needed to make things right with her.<p>

For a long time he didn't move from the couch. He heard Sarah leave the bathroom and come out into the living room, and he still didn't move. He heard her slip around the room, switching off the lights, then close the door to the guest bedroom still, he didn't move. Finally, he found himself on the very edge of sleep, his mind replaying every moment he'd spent with Andy. His last, feeble thoughts were coming in an incoherent jumble when one image a memory floated right to the front and center of his mind. He was back in the van with Traci and Jerry, listening to Torri and Andy talk about love and men.

_"I'm sure he does." Andy said calmly._  
><em>"Why can't guys just, come out and say how they feel?" Torri asked, unhappy.<em>  
><em>"I wish I knew." Andy chuckled.<em>  
><em>"So you're guys like that?<em>  
><em>"Uh, Luke? No... No, he's great."<em>  
><em>"To Luke!" Torri toasted by clinking their glasses together.<em>

After learning everything that Luke had done to betray her over the course of a few months, Sam couldn't say he'd felt any remorse at all for the Detective.

Except

Luke wasn't with her. Not anymore. Sams exhaustion suddenly dissolved. He bolted upright, staring hard down the short, dark hallway that led to his bedroom. Sam rolled off the couch and began to pace back and forth along the swatch of carpet between the couch and the coffee table. Sam didn't know fo sure how much time she had left. And shouldn't hope she'll just get better, no matter how much he'd like to.  
><em>You only live once right?<em>

And just like that, there it was. He had to tell her.

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><p><strong>:3 Hope you guys liked this new chapter, review letting me know!<strong>

**Next chapter is gonna be a sad one :S I'm sorry!**

**k so, I saw the episode and I am like SOOOO excited for next week. But like Sam was freaking funny today. I loved how he looked Andy, and like how nice she was when rejecting that guy. I kinda didn't care about Noelle and Frank though...I couldn't stop laughing at greg though!He was sooo good at being high it as so funny. But anyway I am SOO excited for next week! I know as of whats gonna happen between Sam and Andy that episode :P So I am FREAKING EXCITED!**


	3. Enjoy Your Stay Andy McNally

**LoL when I said this was sad ummmmm not as sad as I thought -_-' Sorry! **

**But it is kinda sad, well to me its like 'Meh, kinda sad.' but to you guys I donno... So I'm just gonna say sorry now if you cry.**

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><p>It had been a week since he'd come up with the insane idea to tell Andy he loved her, and almost as long since he'd axed it based on its stupidity alone. Because, really? It was such a bad idea that there were no words. For fuck's sake, he knew better than that! No good had ever come from showing his feelings of love to her, and no good at all would come from telling her now. He knew that if he told her it would't change anything, it wouldn't save her, or make her better.<br>But he had to, before it was too late.

Considering how badly he'd overslept that morning, Sam couldn't help but think he should be at least a little more rushed as he started through his morning routine (shower, shave, lunch, Andy). But, as he stepped under the rush of steaming water in his shower, he couldn't bring himself to move any faster. Besides, the shower felt really, really good. And it gave him the perfect opportunity to laugh at himself some more.  
><em>God.<em> Sam flicked water from his face as he stepped back under the spray, wincing when some shampoo got into his eyes and made them burn. He rubbed at them with his fingers. He yawned suddenly, shaking his head. It felt like someone was tap dancing right on top of his brain, but that was probably because it was almost noon and he hadn't had his coffee yet. As he reached over and turned off the water, he thought,_ I should call Sarah. Have her home some coffee. _She hadn't been in the apartment when Sam finally stumbled out of his room that morning (having managed to somehow find his way there the night before). Instead, there was a neon green Post-It note on the fridge, telling him that she'd gone out to get some food - decent food- (her words, not his) and that she'd be back before noon. Sarah had also written that she hoped he was awake by the time she got back, so they could go and see Andy. Sam smiled as he finished towel-drying his hair. His sister knew him too well. Stepping onto the fuzzy bathmat next to the shower stall, he tossed the towel over the door. He pulled on his boxers before stepping over to the sink and grabbing his shaving gel and razor.  
><em><br>I hope Andy's doing all right._ He hadn't called the hospital yet (he'd only gotten out of bed about twenty minutes ago, and it was never a good idea for him to try and do anything productive before he'd had a chance to wake up). He really hoped she was doing better the last time he'd been in, they'd diagnosed her with neutropenia; meaning her white blood cell count was dangerously low. Sam wasn't completely sure how everything worked, but it meant she was at risk of getting sick. They'd been working on bringing her cell counts up for the past few days, and she'd gone in overnight to potentially start the chemo again.

_Oliver's there_, he reminded himself as he lathered up his face. He'd almost forgotten how much he liked it when he was clean-shaven. And if anything happened he'd call you. _Get a grip. _They'd actually discussed it the night before. Rather, Zoe had told him quite firmly that if he showed up at the hospital before noon she'd march him straight out the door again. Or something; he'd barely been able to hear her threats over the girls' laughter. Seems they enjoyed watching their mother lecture someone else for a change. Even from the bathroom, he could hear the front door open and swing close again. A few seconds of silence followed, then he heard Sarah call, "Sam?"

"I'm up," Sam called back through the bathroom door. "Be out in a sec!" He quickly finished putting on his clothes, hung his towel up on the rack where it actually belonged, and left the bathroom.

"You look better." Sarah said, grinning, when she saw him.

"I feel better," he replied, his gaze catching the half-dozen or so plastic bags gilled with food sitting just inside the front door. "Is this everything?"

"Yeah. Leave 'em, though, I'll take care of it." She looked at him, her expression a little like their old dog's had been when he was hoping to avoid trouble after digging in their mother's garden. "I borrowed the Truck."

Sam waved her off, sliding onto one of the stools he kept at the bar. "I figured. No big deal."

"I thought you didn't like it when people touched your Truck?"

"You're an exception, along with McNally. You two know how to drive it." He craned his neck, peering at the bags near Sarah's feet. "Any orange juice in there? I drank the last of it yesterday."

"I saw. Here." Sarah plunked a fresh carton down on the counter and slid it towards him, along with a clean cup she rescued from the dishwasher.

"Thanks, Sarah," he said as he poured himself a glass. Sure, it wasn't coffee, but nothing woke him up in the morning like a little orange juice.

"Any time." She began loading up the freezer with foods Sam barely got a glance at as they went from the bag into storage. "Someone's gotta look after you."

"You're my Older sister. I'm supposed to be the one looking after you."

Sarah shot him a look. "Please don't tell me you spent the morning getting mopey and sentimental." She paused suddenly, her brow furrowing. "Is that your phone? It's not mine."

"What?" Sam turned his head back and forth, listening hard. She was right. His phone must have fallen out of his pocket while he'd been lying on the couch the night before, because it he could hear vibrating from somewhere under there. Sam darted for it a few quick strides and he was ducking to grab it out from under the couch but he was too late. The phone stopped ringing just before he got his hands on it. He flipped the phone open and checked the caller ID. Oliver. And before that, the hospital. His stomach sank. _Oh, no. __Calm down,_ he ordered himself. You can't always assume the worst-case scenario. They might just be wondering where the hell you are, since you're, like, four hours late. He hit redial on Oliver's number and waited.

"Sam." Something was wrong. He could hear it in Oliver's voice.

"What is it, Oliver? What's wrong with Andy?"

"It's..." Oliver trailed off, and Sam could almost see the worry lines on his face growing deeper by the second. "She's bad, Sammy." He heard a jingle and whipped around Sarah was holding out his keys. Sam jerked his head, and she threw them his way. He caught them in his hand, wrapping his fingers around them tightly. The keys' teeth dug into his palm, but not deep enough to draw blood. Motioning for Sarah to follow him, he headed for the door.

"I'm coming, Ollie. I'm on my way."

* * *

><p>The skies were beginning to cloud up again as he whipped his Truck into his spot in the parking lot. Thanks to the clouds rolling over the sun, the world shifted from light to dark as he charged the hospital's doors. The weatherman had said something about another storm cell coming in that afternoon, but Sam hadn't really been paying attention so he couldn't say said when or how bad it was going to be.<p>

_Let it come,_ Sam thought, jogging past the elevator _no time to waste waiting_ and bounding up the stairs two at a time. He didn't know if Sarah was behind him and he didn't care. She'd find him. Right now, he just needed to see Andy.

_Don't let it be serious,_ he begged, skidding around the corner and hauling for her room. _Please don't let it be that bad. _Andy wasn't there. Her bed was unmade and all her things were right where they'd been when he left the night before the duffel with a change of clothes still sitting by her bed but she was gone. He stood just inside the door, staring, confused. "Andy?"

No answer, but he hadn't really expected one. Sam stuck his head back out into the hall, hoping to spot a nurse or a doctor or someone who might be able to tell him what the fuck was going on here. The halls were mostly empty, though, they often were. The oncology wing was surprisingly quiet, even on its worst days.

Where would she have gone? Where's Oliver?

"Sam!"

Sarah had finally caught up with him. Sam winced, suddenly feeling guilty for running off. He turned, saying, "I'm sorry, Sarah, I-" She cut him off by pressing his phone into his hand. "Oliver called again. He, Zoe, and the girls are up on the fifth floor."

"Did he say why?"

"Just that he wants us to meet him there."

* * *

><p>Oliver and his family were sitting in a waiting room on the far side of the fifth floor. Carla and Dr. Green were with them, and they were all talking softly. Oliver kept looking at his feet, it seemed like Zoe was doing most of the talking. The girls were a few rows over close enough that Sam imagined they could hear everything being said, but not so close they might be tempted to interrupt. Aside from their little group, the room was empty. Everyone else was probably visiting family, safely in their rooms. Where Andy should be. Sam didn't even bother with formal greetings. As he slowed from his jog, Sarah following closely, he demanded, "Where's Andy? She's not in her room "<p>

Dr. Green stood up. The oncologist was an older man with black-rimmed glasses and thick, brown but graying hair, and Sam guessed that his age landed somewhere in his late fourties. He was a nice guy, warm and friendly despite his professionalism, but Sam had noticed that he sometimes had issues explaining things. "I had her moved upstairs. She's in isolation."

His blood ran cold. "What? Why?"

"Last night she started showing signs of an infection."

"An infection? What kind of infection?"

"It could be anything," Carla said, taking over with a look at Dr. Green. "She might just have a cold. But with her white counts as low as they are, even a cold is bad. We knew this was gonna happen and we were watching for it, but-"

"You knew she was at risk?"

"We did. And we gave her a booster when her counts started to drop last week. You were here when we gave it to her. But Andy went ahead and lost white cells anyway."

"Sam," Dr. Green said. He met Sam's eyes and held them. "Andy is very, very sick. Her tumor is in a very advanced state. Anything we do for her carries risks that it doesn't for any other patient because of how advanced the cancer is. If she hadn't insisted on trying chemotherapy and radiation, I wouldn't have recommended it at all. But I promise you, we are going to do everything we can to make her well again. Right now, we just want to get rid of this infection and get her cell counts back up."

"What about the chemotherapy?" This time it was Oliver asking. He'd been so quiet Sam had almost forgotten he was even there.

Dr. Green shook his head. "The chemotherapy drugs we've been giving her are immunosuppressive. If we keep her on them, she's only going to get worse."

Oliver nodded, leaning his forehead against his wife's when she reached up and put an arm around his shoulder. Sam looked away, his gaze falling on the open window. He had read about them the immunosuppressive drugs, that is. Most chemotherapy drugs were immunosuppressive to a degree, at least as far as he'd found. It was just one of the side effects. In their efforts to kill off the tumor cells, they sometimes killed off the good cells, as well. He'd meant to look up Andy's specific drug cocktail and see what their specific side effects were, but he hadn't managed to get around to it yet. Without turning from the window, where the first fat raindrops were beginning to splatter against the glass, Sam took a deep breath and asked, "Can I see her?"

"You can't go in to visit her yet, but you can see her." Carla stood up. "Come on, I'll take you." She led him down a hallway lined with glass-walled rooms. Some had patients in them, but several were empty and, to be honest, Sam liked them better when there wasn't someone trapped inside. It reminded him of a zoo, with the sick being the animals you watch.

"You must be really sick to wind up here." he said as they passed by a tiny room with a young kid inside boy or girl, Sam couldn't say.

"You're either really sick or you might get that way," Carla agreed. "Don't you worry about Adrian, though. He's going to be getting a bone marrow transplant this afternoon, and then we're hoping he'll be fine. I'm surprised his brother isn't here yet. Austin's a mother hen just like you, only worse." She looked at him, waiting for a reaction, but Sam didn't offer one.

"Andy's just up here."

* * *

><p>Like the others on the floor, Andy was being kept behind glass. Sam balked a few feet away from the room. Even from there he could see the deep, dark purple circles under her eyes.<p>

"God," he breathed.

"She looks worse with the tubes and the mask on. She was talkin' to us just this morning."

"When?"

Carla bit her lip as she thought. "Kim said she was starting to feel sick around midnight, like she had the flu."

"You didn't think it was just another side effect of the chemotherapy?"

"Honey, have you ever had the flu? There's feeling like you're gonna be sick, and then there's feeling like you've got the flu. Besides, she wasn't on the chemo last night. We stopped that, remember? Last night she was just on the booster."

"I didn't know any of that."

"That's because we've all gotten very good at hiding these sorts of things from you. Andy knew what was going on, of course."

"That doesn't seem right. Or fair. Or legal."

"Given how you behave? Any jury would side with us. I never lied to you, anyway. I just didn't tell you everything."

"That's lying by omission."

"Actually, it's called HIPAA." HIPAA meant, Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, she had him there. Deciding not to push the subject any further, Sam asked, "Do you think it is just the flu?"

"Could be. Could also be a systematic infection, some other bug harassing her whole body."

Sam shook his head. Now he didn't want to know. He shifted, watching Andy breathe. "How do you do it, Carla? How do you come in here every day, knowing there's a good chance these people aren't going to make it?"

"You're a Police Officer." When he looked at her, startled, she waved a hand at him. "No, don't look at me like that. I'm not dumb. My brother's in the Force; you move like he does. But tell me: how do you go off on the beat when you know that no matter how many people you lock up, there will always be crime?" She paused, watching Andy breathe for a moment, then said softly, "For me, I go in hoping I can either help them or hold them while they go." The pager at her hip began to buzz, and she looked at it. "Gotta go save one of my nurses. Sounds like the other mother hen is finally here, and he's trying to make up for lost time." She touched his arm lightly and flashed a smile as she left, nearly colliding with Oliver as he came around the corner. Sam forced a smile as Oliver joined him just outside Andy's room. Neither said anything for a few minutes. They both just watched her.

Oliver broke the silence first. "She was already in here when I came by, Sam. I called you as soon as I found where they'd moved her."

"I know." Sam let one hand fall from the glass, but left the other resting there. "Did you see where Sarah went?"

"She's with Zoe and the girls."

Sam nodded, closing his eyes. He was tired again. Flexing and then clenching his jaw, he leaned his forehead against the glass. But he didn't look at Andy, sleeping in the room. "What do we do now, Oliver?"

"I don't know."

"I don't, either." That was the problem. There were no solutions. No answers.  
>No way to change her fate. Just modern medicine, which could give a man a robotic heart but couldn't find a way to cure cancer.<p>

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><p><strong>Sorry Its kinda short but like UGH couldn't think of more.<br>I am sorry now for any spelling or name mix ups its two in the morning and my mind is everywhere.**

**Next chapter shall be normal more of a soul searching thing.**

**lol so, its TWO O'CLOCK IN THE FREAKING MORNING and I just finished off the final chapter for this story, I am NOT saying how long this story is, but lets just say I'm already done...BUT I'mma gonna upload the final chapter on Thrusday just for shits and giggles. MAKING YOU WAIT HAHAHA I'm a horrible person I know |:P The next chapter shall be up around Monday 'cuz I am busy tomorrow and sunday (Going to this rib fest thing on Saturday then swimming and drinking coffee on Sunday with friends)**

**I might flail about at the bottom of the authors note on Thrusday about how me and my friend watched the episode together and how much of a dork I am :P  
>Even though I should be talking more about the end of the story and what not...<strong>

**ANYWAY...So I kinda had my first taste of coffee on the 19th and I was FREAKING INSANE I was giggling and talking SUPER fast and if I got out of my bed I would practicly run to where ever I was going! My friends found this amusing and so did my Dad. So yeah just wanted to point that out :P**


	4. Time and Space Sam Swarek

**Whoop Whoop new chapter! Sorry this is so short. This is not going to be very sad.**

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><p>The pale yellow isolation gown he was forced to wear whenever he wanted to see her rustled faintly as he crossed the room. Sam pulled up a chair and set it down by the bed his movements as quick, careful, and quiet as he could make them; Andy was sleeping and he didn't want to wake her.<p>

According to Dr. Green, she was doing much better. Her white counts were up, not by a lot, but considering how low they had been any increase was a damn good thing! She'd been eating more -said she had a craving for Fruit and Cupcakes, which of Sam thought was cute-, sleeping less - though she was out for the count at the moment-, and definitely seemed to be throwing off the infection.

Even so, the Oncologist warned them that Andy had a long way to go before she was healthy enough to go home, and he couldn't say how much this might have set her back. She might live another four or five months; or she might go even sooner than that.

"We can guess," Dr. Green had said when Sam asked, "but that's all it really is: a guess. A lot of it depends on her and how much she wants to live."

_Fight it, McNally. Cancer is not better than you are._

A stray lock of her soft brown hair had fallen across her face while she slept, and Sam reached out with a gloved hand to push it back behind her ear.

The hair came away in his hand.

Sam stared at it, feeling like he'd just taken a powerful punch to the gut. He knew this was coming; they'd stopped the chemotherapy three weeks ago, now, but the damage had been done. And they had no way of knowing how much more she was going to lose.

_All of this_, he thought, dropping the clump of hair to the floor and kicking it under the bed with a footie-covered shoe, _for nothing._ If she hadn't gone on the chemo, she wouldn't have gotten the neutropenia. If she hadn't gotten the neutropenia, she either wouldn't have caught the damn infection or she'd have been able to fight it off. If she hadn't caught the infection, she could be at home with him right now.

Sam gritted his teeth and looked away.

His gaze fell on the clear IV tubing that led from her arm to the IV piggyback hanging by the bed, delivering her prescribed mix of fluids, antibiotics for the infection, and white count boosters.

He still hadn't told her how he felt; he was too worried to tell her yet.

* * *

><p>Her eyebrows twitched and Andy stirred, stretching and opening her eyes. Her gaze darted quickly around the room, taking in her surroundings, and her face lit up when she saw he was sitting there.<p>

"Morning, slugger" she said. Her voice was raspy, partly from the infection and partly from disuse. She coughed to clear her throat and asked, "It is still morning, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, his voice gentle. "How're you doing?"

"Better. You don't need to ask me that all of the time, you know."

He shook his head. "No can do. Carla told you you'd better get used to it."

Andy snorted softly and shifted, wiggling her way to the edge of the bed. She reached out and touched Sam's arm, tracing her fingers along his forearm to his hand. She tugged his hand free, and then intertwined her fingers in his. Her eyes drifted closed again. "I'm glad you're here, Sam."

"Where else would I be?"

"I don't know, undercover… maybe."

"Undercover? What would I be doing there?"

Andy shrugged. Her grip on his hand tightened as she spoke. The change wasn't huge; but he felt it, just like he heard the note of fear in her voice. "Since you join Guns and Gangs, I figured you'd be going back under after your last case."

He shifted closer to the bed, and started running his thumb along the back of her hand. "I'm on standby, remember? They won't send me under unless they absolutely have to." He paused, glancing out the door as a nurse walked by. It wasn't Carla, and as she kept on going by the room he turned his gaze back to Andy. "I'm not going to leave you, McNally. Not for anything. We're partners."

"Yeah, partners."

Andy frowned. This wasn't like Andy. "Maybe I should bring in Sarah," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "She's been getting on my back about being pessimistic all week."

She smiled faintly. "She should. You're not allowed to be pessimistic."

"Neither are you," he retorted. He was going to say something more, but was interrupted by a knock on the glass. Sam looked up. Traci Nash was standing outside.

"Look there's Nash. I'm going to go say hi. I'll be back, okay?"

Andy nodded. "Okay."

Sam gave her hand one last squeeze before letting it go, then quickly crossed the room and ducked out of the door.

"You didn't have to leave," Traci said. "I just wanted to let you know I was here. It's still your shift."

"I know." He tossed the gown, gloves, shoe covers, facemask, and hair net into the bio hazardous waste container by the door. Carla and the other nurses had set it up specifically for Sam and the others, since they came and went so often.

"How's she doing?" Traci asked.

"Better." Sam said, shaking his head.

"Have you spoken to her yet?"

"About what?"

"Sam, I've known you for quite some time and I know that you are in love with Andy and I think you should tell her." Sam looked away, was he that obvious?

Sam didn't know what to say, she was right, he is in love with Andy. He wanted to tell Traci how it would be pointless, that it wouldn't change anything. Sam looked back into the room. He hated seeing her so sick, it pained him every time._ Andy McNally shouldn't be dying of cancer, not now at least_, she had barely started her career and hadn't even gotten the chance to work on her personal life. She wasn't married, nor did she have any kids or siblings. The McNally line ended here with Andy and it shouldn't.

He needed space, he needed to think this through. Andy needed to know. But there was no real point. Saying he loved her won't make her better, nor would it change anything.

_She deserves to know._ Sam thought to himself.

What Sam was truly worried about was not just the fact that telling her would accomplish nothing, it was what came next. If she loved him back, nothing would change and if she died? Sam had no clue what he'd do. He would be losing both a partner, friend and if he told Andy how he felt and if she felt the same, he would also be losing a lover and Sam really didn't want to add another thing to the list Andy McNally would be to him.

_But if she died without ever knowing?_ Sam would never forgive himself.

"Nash," he said to her after a quiet moment, lightly touching her shoulder to get her attention. "I've got to go. Stay with Andy for me, okay?"

"What?" Traci turned away from the glass, "Where are you going? It's still your… "

Sam shook his head. He needed space, he needed to think. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise."

"But wait! Sam! It's still your shift! Where are you…What am I supposed to tell Andy?"

"Just tell her I'll be back!" He called over his shoulder as he rounded the corner and jogged for the elevator.

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><p><strong>Sorry sorry I know its short, the next chapter will be longer but, I have split it into two to keep up suspence and do what I love most; pulling them heart strings!<br>For the next chapter I STRONGLY SUGGEST BRINGING A TISSUE or well the whole damn box but hey your choice :P**

**Review letting me know what you think! :D**


	5. Tell Her Sam Swarek

**WOW Last nights episode was FANTASTIC!  
>I loved it and squealed like a total fangirl at Sam and Andy. My mind went straight into writer mode thinking, 'God look at the passion! Sam is SO careful, its like he thinks at one faulse move she'll leave him again and that he is just astonished at this is even happening in the first place. I love how gentle they are! Its not rough like last time.' I giggled with pure joy when the music just picked up as Sam picked up Andy, god I was a happy person. Next week looks freaking awesome and scary at the same time! Sucks the season finale has to be the day after my birthday .<strong>

**ALSO I HAVE MY COMPUTER BACK :DDDDD Its fixed and works GREAT! I got all my files back which is sweet. :)**

**So bisides nearly cutting open a vein yesterday, its been a great week!**

**Plus tomorrow my friend Gilbert (She is drawing my gang from my other story Years) and I are having a combo birthday party, she and I are about 7 hours apart, its gonna be sweet so I thought I'd update now before that and before school starts.**

**Enjoy! :)**

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><p>When Sam got home he showered, shaved and layed in his bed, thinking, until he managed to sleep for a few hours.<br>He was going to tell her. That much he knew, but when finally noticed his cell phone buzzing on the counter he got nervous. Sam flipped it open, it was reminding him of his missed calls, he had 10. Sam grabbed his keys and ran out the door without listening to the messages and climbed into the truck.

* * *

><p><em>Everything is going to be okay<em>, Sam told himself as he drove down the busy Toronto streets. He had to tell Andy. He couldn't waste anymore time. And everything was going to be okay. He glanced over as the evening rush-hour traffic came to a near-standstill and frowned, thinking.

For all the weeks Sam had spent obsessing over this idea, telling Andy how he truly felt even though it would do nothing to help their situation, he hadn't ever come up with an actual plan. Ideas sure, But no actual plan of how to tell her.

_So come up with one_, he thought, turning from the roundabout on Pennsylvania Avenue onto 23rd. He wasn't some swave male from a romance novel; he couldn't just saunter into her room and just tell her with smooth words that would make her swoon. He wasn't too good with meaningful words nor would making Andy swoon help at all.

_He could write it out, though, that might take longer. E_ven though Sam was amazing through paper in expressing emotions, it would not be the best idea when it came to admitting love.

Still, he'd prefer to write her.

_Then do that,_ he told himself as he turned into the hospital's parking lot and dropped his Truck off in his usual spot.

He slid from the driver's seat, almost forgetting yet again to grab his phone. He hadn't looked at it since he'd left his place earlier that afternoon, and almost didn't want to check and see how many messages and missed calls he had now. They wouldn't do him any good now, anyway.

* * *

><p>The isolation floor was quieter than usual, Sam realized as he stepped off the elevator. Adrian, the leukemia patient who'd been in for a bone marrow transplant, had gone home sometime the week before taking with him his brother, Austin -the other mother hen- and his family, leaving just two other patients on the isolation floor besides Andy. And Andy was hopefully going to get out of this place soon. If she kept improving at least.<p>

God, he hoped she kept improving.

Sam rounded the corner to Andy's hall. Traci and Oliver were standing there in the hall closer to this end than Andy's room at the other. Sam stopped, frowning, and they both turned to look at him.

Then Oliver snarled, "There you are! Where the hell have you been, Sam?" He came down the hall, his hands clenching into fists.

Sam tensed, ready to dodge if Oliver took a swing at him, it really looked like he might and glanced at Traci. Her eyes were on Oliver and she seemed just as surprised at his outburst as Sam was.

To be honest, Sam had come back fully expecting everyone to be pissed off at him. He had left without really telling anyone why. He deserved whatever he got; but he hadn't expected Oliver to be this mad. Strong, stable Oliver Shaw did not get this mad about anything.

Unless...

_Did something happen? Something else?_ As if they needed more bad news.  
>Sam started down the hall, asking, "Is McNally okay?"<p>

"No," Oliver snapped in reply, stepping in front of him and blocking the way. He clearly wasn't finished yet. "Andy is not okay. She's sick, Sam. She's_ dying_! You know she doesn't have much-"

"Oliver!" Traci said her voice sharp. Her gaze darted from him to Sam and back again, "That's enough."

Sam watched his old friend deflate with a pang of guilt. Sam did not want to leave, he had to. He had to let himself take a step back, calm himself and fully accept this before he told her. So he had to go. He didn't regret it, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel guilty about it.

_But what happened?_ He thought. What happened to Andy while he was gone? Sam started to demand an answer, but Oliver cut him off again.

"I called you," he said, his voice flat, "probably a dozen times. Sarah probably called you even more than that. Whatever you were doing, I hope it was important enough that you couldn't take thirty seconds to answer your goddamned phone!" Shaking his head, he shoved past Sam and started down the hall, his footfalls echoing loudly in the empty space.

Traci started after him, calling, "Where are you going?"

"It's all right, Traci." Oliver waved dismissively over his shoulder, but did not turn around or even stop. "I'm going to go find Sarah. Let her know her lunk-head of a brother is still alive."

Sam winced as he and Traci watched Oliver disappear around the corner. Sam's hand dropped to his side, he expected her to turn on him next and ask him where he'd gone.

"Nash," he began after a few minutes, hoping to break the silence.

"Don't," she warned, her voice unsteady. A few seconds later, she turned and glared at him. "I'm not happy with you, Sam. What you did...Running out on Andy like that..." Her face fell. "I just don't think we should be fighting right now."

"Be angry with me all you want," he replied, his voice harsher than he meant it to be. "I don't care. What happened?"

"Andy's gone septic."

Sam's gut twisted violently. "No." he said, but his voice had gone and no words came out.

In the first few weeks after Andy had been diagnosed, Sam had spent hours finding out everything he could about her cancer and its treatment. Neutropenia, infection, and sepsis were all things that cropped up on the _List of Stuff that Could Go Wrong_. They'd dealt with neutropenia and infection already, and sepsis, if he remembered it right, was the full-body inflammatory response to infection; to microbes in the blood or some medical shit like that.

Either way, it was not good. Not good at all.

"When...?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"It probably started before you left yesterday, but we didn't know 'til after you were gone. Her blood pressure and her temperature both dropped and she started having trouble breathing, so they put her on a breathing mask." Traci ran a hand through her hair. "Go and see her, Sam. I'm going to go get a drink." She lurched away from him, and walked away down the hall, leaving Sam standing there by himself.

_I'm sorry_, he thought, staring after her back, wishing there was a way to get them to understand without wasting the time it would take to explain.

_But I did what I had to do. I have to tell her. Now._ He stood there for a moment then jogged down the hall to Andy's room.

* * *

><p>Andy shifted as he entered, her eyes flashing weakly in recognition when she saw him. An even weaker smile flashed across her face, but he barely saw it because of the breathing mask she was wearing.<p>

"Hey," he said softly, grabbing the same stool he always did. As he sat down he went on, "Nash says you aren't feeling so good."

She snorted softly, closing her eyes. "I'm dying, Sam." Her voice was raspy and distorted by the mask. "Don't think it's supposed to feel good."

"Don't say that."

"It's true." She reached for his hand. Her fingers were cold. Sam took her other hand in his as well, covering them up to warm them.

"You're going to get better," he told her. "You will."

"Cancer…" she murmured, turning her head on the pillow and meeting his eyes, "Who saw this coming, huh?"

Sam's chest tightened. "Don't joke," he begged her. "Don't joke about this."

They fell silent for a few minutes, and Andy turned her gaze to the window.

Sam shifted, _how would it go_, he wondered. His ears suddenly tuned in on the slow, steady beeping of her cardiac monitor. Would she care even though it was pointless or just laugh in his face or would she somehow surprise him?

One thing for sure, he wouldn't know without telling her first. He loved her. He trusted her and she trusted him. And he knew her. They knew each other so well they didn't even need to talk sometimes. But this...this was nothing like their other plans or, hell, even remotely like anything they'd ever done. This wasn't something they could discuss in hand signals, secret meanings in a sentence and looks shared across a room. This wasn't something he could explain to her without words. Where would he even start?

Even using words, where would he start?

"Andy," he started, staring hard at window, "I know I don't share my feeling...Ever, with you and I know I should, but I..." He trailed off, looking for a way to phrase it right. "...There has been something I've been wanting to tell you, and I know it won't change anything heath wise and I know that I can't make you well again but I would regret it forever if I didn't tell you now. You understand McNally?"

"Sam..." she began, and he felt her hands tense in his. Sam looked down as Andy's eyes fluttered closed.

"Andy?"

And then the machines around her head began to scream.

Sam jerked back, his eyes darting from one machine to the next. "Andy? Andy!" Her hand had gone limp and cold in his hand.

_Oh, no. No, no, no!_ "Andy!"

The door opened and he whipped around, yelling, "Do something!"

Summoned by the sounds of the alarms, four nurses rushed into the room. They pushed him out of the way, forcing him to let go of Andy's hand. Sam stepped back, his heart racing and his gut twisting. The nurses quickly set to work, poking at Andy, prodding at her, checking the IV lines of saline and antibiotics leading to her arm and the monitors that just kept on screaming. They shouted at each other words Sam heard but didn't know, medical jargal he could never, ever hope to keep up with at this point.

_No, no, no,_ he thought. _No. No, oh please, no._ Finding his voice again, he shouted, "What's going on? Someone tell me what's going on!"

One of the nurses pushed in front of him, forcing him to the back of the small isolation room with a glare. Two more wheeled in a cart with about half a dozen little red drawers on the front and an IV pole on the side and a machine with..._Oh god._

It was a crash cart.

The damn thing looked just like the ones he'd seen on TV. Sam looked on in horror as Dr. Green sprinted through the door, calling for them to charge the paddles. "What are you doing? What's happening to her?" He was fully aware that he sounded like a scared child. He didn't care.

Dr. Green finally looked up. "Sam, you really shouldn't be in here." He jerked his head towards the door. "Out, please."

Sam dug in his heels. No way they were kicking him out before he knew what was going on with Andy. "Not until someone tells me what the fuck is going on!"

In a sharp, authoritative tone, Dr. Green barked, "Sam! Out! I'll send someone to talk to you after we finish saving her life!"

He felt hands take his arm, and another pair against his back, but he neither saw nor cared who they belonged to. His eyes were on Andy, on her pale skin and dark hair, on the tubes and wires leading to and from her body, on the way her back arched under the shock from the defibrillator.

Sam let the nurses herd him out the door, though he threw himself at the glass as soon as they'd closed the door on him. He flexed his fingers against the glass, barely aware and hardly caring about the greasy streaks he'd be leaving behind.

God, if this were something happening undercover or on the job or something else, anything else he'd be fine. He'd be just fucking fine. But this? He had seen a lot of terrible things in his life. He had seen things no one else should ever have to. But so far, neither murder victims, nor dead children, or serial killers or mutated bodies or watching a fellow Officer on the job die, could have prepared him for this. Compared to this, those things were cake.

He reached for his phone, planning to call Oliver and Sarah and Traci and the others, tell them to get up here, now, but his hands were shaking so much he could barely hold onto it, much less dial any of the numbers.

"Sam!" He looked up, and there was Traci. "What's going on?"

"I don't know! We were talking and then these alarms started going off!" He pushed a hand through his hair, stalking back and forth in the hall first in front of the glass, then between it and the bench across the hall. His heart was slamming in his chest and though he felt like he'd just jumped in an icy lake in the middle of winter, he was sweating.

Traci took one glance inside the room and turned. "I'm going to go get Oliver," she called, taking off down the hall. "I'll be right back!"

Sam continued to pace, pressing the palms of his hands against the sides of his head. He glanced inside the isolation room every now and again, but each time he did he felt his heart jump again._ No, no, no. Oh, God, don't go, Andy, don't go, I don't want you to go yet! I haven't even had the chance to tell you!_

"Andy!"

It was only when a couple of the nurses in her room looked up that he realized he had called her name out loud.

At a word, it seemed, from Dr. Green Sam couldn't hear a damn thing over the sounds of the alarms Carla stepped away from Andy and over to the glass. Sam moved to the door, expecting her to come out and tell him something, anything about what was going on.

But she didn't. Instead, shooting him a pain-filled look, she hit a button on the wall by the door. The blinds slid closed, completely hiding what was going on inside from Sam's view.

"No!" Sam slammed his palms against the door. "Andy!"

"Sam!"

Sam turned. Oliver and Sarah were sprinting towards him, Traci trailing a little further behind. She had her cell phone pressed to her ear, though Sam could only guess that she was calling the others.

"What's going on?" Oliver asked, skidding to a halt outside the door.

"I don't know!" Sam pressed the heels of his palms against his temples and stared hard at the tile floor. The alarms were still screaming, echoing loud and shrill inside his skull. "She just went limp and then the alarms started to go off and then they closed the blinds!" Someone grabbed his arm, and Sam lifted his head to look. Sarah was at his side, her arms wrapped around his, her cheek pressed hard against her shoulder. He reached out with his free hand and took one of hers, plucking it off of his bicep, then motioned for Traci and Oliver to come and join them. They did just that; Traci falling in on Sam's free side while Oliver took a position by her flank.

Forcing his voice to be as steady as possible, Sam said, "We'll get through this. We'll get through this."

And then, at once, the alarms stopped.

* * *

><p><strong>OOOOOOO SNAP! I am a horrible human being! :P Is she alive? Is she dead? Gosh who knows!<br>Sorry you guys but I just couldn't help it.**

**I know, I know its been 6 weeks since I have upated Years! I WILL update ASAP!  
><strong>**I just got my computer back so now I can work on Years.**

**Review your hate xD**

**I love hearing from you guys no matter what.**


	6. I Love You Andy McNally

Sam looked up, then quickly glanced at the others. They were all staring at the blinds, and he got the feeling they were all holding their breath as they waited.

The sounds were still ringing in his ears when the door finally opened and Carla stepped out into the hall

Traci was the first to move, breaking away from the rest and asking, "Is she okay? Carla, is Andy okay?"

Carla's voice was flat as she said, "We've gotten her stabilized, yes."

"What happened?"

"She's gone into what we call septic shock." She looked at each of them in turn as she spoke.

"Septic shock," Sam repeated numbly, taking a small step back. He looked towards Andy's room, but with the blinds still drawn he couldn't see anything. He could only picture her lying there and getting weaker and weaker and weaker...

"What is septic shock, exactly?" Oliver asked. "Is it some sort of second stage to the sepsis?"

Carla nodded.

"How does that happen? I thought you were treating the sepsis."

"We still are." Carla pushed a loose strand of sweat-drenched hair off her face. She explained, "Sepsis releases a large amount of toxins into the blood. In Andy's case, those toxins were staphylococcus bacteria. Her body reacted to fight them off, but in doing so prevented her muscles and organs from getting all the food and oxygen they need to survive, sending her into shock. We're doing everything we can for her now, but "Carla glanced inside the room, then said, "You guys need to be aware that there's a very good chance she won't last much longer."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Might be tomorrow, might be the day after, might even be sometime today."

Over the next few hours, other people began to stop by to visit. Apparently, Traci had been under strict orders to call the Best whenever something changed. Everyone close to Andy came by; Dov Epstein and Chris Diaz, then Gail Peck and Jerry Barber and Noelle Williams. Stryker, Best, Callaghan, and even Boyd. Some of Andy's friends from the Academy dropped by later that afternoon. So did Traci but with Leo and her Mother and Tommy McNally of course. Some friends of hers from grade school and Collage. Sam had never learned so much about Andy McNally then through her old friends that afternoon as they told countless stories of her, in a past tence which pissed Sam off, but he loved hearing about her past, even if it wasn't Andy telling it.

Some reunion it was, though. All of them were here to say goodbye.

Unfortunately, they were interfering with his plan. He had figured it would be hard enough with Oliver and Traci and Sarah and the doctors and nurses ducking in and out sometimes without warning but he couldn't dodge all of them plus more than a dozen others.

Finally finally! he got his chance. All of the others had finally gone home, leaving Sam alone in the hospital with her.

Do it! He screamed at himself, looking at the IV line dripping morphine into her veins. Goddammit, if you were ever going to do it now would be the time! He shoved his hand into his pocket.

What if someone comes? He thought. Then, No one is coming. They're all gone.

You shouldn't be doing, that voice! That stupid little voice that had tap-danced around his skull every time he thought of asking her; nagging him, reminding him how stupid and pointless this whole plan was.

He hated that voice. It got in his way.

I have to do it, he told himself, she needs to know.

Sam opened his mouth to speak even though she couldn't hear him he had to say it.

But his words fell short.

Sam stood there, mouth wide open like he could catch flies, for a few beats longer before dropping it heavily back to his side. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, and it wasn't a matter of timing, or how pointless it was that she would hear him, or because he didn't desperately want Andy to know, or any of those things. This was Andy. Andy-fucking-McNally. His Andy. And he didn't need to tell her.

She already knew.

Sam clenched his hand into a fist, holding it stiffly down by the seat of the stool while he stared at the floor. He hated himself right then, for not telling her when he had the chance. It was such a stupid idea. He'd known it all along, even if he'd managed to convince himself that he had to at least try.

And who could blame him? This was Andy McNally. Rookie from 15 Division, well ex-rookie, honorary part of the Guns and Gangs. She'd faced down armies of bad guys, surviving countless time of near death. She had a smile that crossed oceans. She was strong, she was beautiful, she was amazing...And she could blame him for not telling her. She probably wouldn't, but she could. And he'd want her to, actually, because it would mean that someone on this God-forsaken earth still gave a damn about morals and rights and love.

He looked at Andy again, studying her face the way the dying sunlight curved over her cheekbones and caught in her still-thinning hair, sending tiny sparks of copper and bronze and gold up and down the strands. He thought of her eyes, hidden underneath her deeply shadowed, bruised-looking eyes, and how full of life they always were.

He would have gone to the ends of the earth to save her, if that's what it took, and hell, if a stranger had stopped by the hospital that morning and offered her a cure in exchange for his life, he'd have accepted every last one of that bastard's terms and conditions in a heartbeat.

Because that was how much he loved her and he wanted her awake and alive and healthy and listen when he said,

"I love you, Andy," he said, his voice breaking. He folded his arms on her bed and rested his head on them. The top of his head lightly grazed her side and he tightly closed his eyes, whispering, "I love you..."

Sometime later, the door opened, and he jerked awake as Traci came in.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you. How is she?"

Sam shook his head. He ran a hand down his face, then rubbed at the back of his neck. He was stiff and sore and dead tired and he was sure he looked like hell. "What time is it?"

"Nearly one," she replied, then added, "In the afternoon."

"Really?" God, he'd slept a while.

"You should go get something to eat," she said. "If nothing else. I'll stay here."

Sam nodded, but didn't move. He wasn't hungry, though he couldn't remember what he had to eat last, or even when.

He inhaled deeply, shifting his position on the stool. For several long minutes Traci neither moved or said anything, and Sam never once stopped looking at that blurry, worn spot on his knee. Then, breaking the heavy silence, he heard the swift tapping of her shoes on the tile as she walked around the bed. Before he could even so much as look up she had thrown her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. Her frame, still as tiny as it had been when they'd met shook with soundless sobs.

"Hey, now," Sam said, reaching up and patting her shoulder. "Don't cry. It'll be okay."

He had meant to comfort her with that, but seemed to make things worse instead. Traci sniffled, the trembling growing more pronounced, and choked out, "She's really going to die. Andy is really going to die."

Sam felt his throat and chest both tighten, and suddenly it was hard for him to breathe. He tilted his head back so he was staring up at the tiled ceiling.

"Yeah," he managed, but that was all.

Andy McNally was going to die. She was going to die of fucking cancer, and there was nothing more he could do.

Andy continued to get progressively worse over the next couple of hours. She barely moved and hardly even seemed aware of what was going on. She would flinch sometimes in pain, or squeeze his hand when he held hers, but that was really it.

The others came and went, but Sam refused to leave at all. Fortunately, it seemed that the hospital staff had given up trying to make him leave.

He was coming back from a very short trip to the bathroom when he nearly ran into Carla. The nurses had all been coming periodically to check Andy's vitals and meds the IV lines that dripped nothing but painkillers into her veins now.

"How is she doing?" He asked, more out of reflex than anything. He could see for himself that she was only getting worse.

What he really meant, but couldn't ask, was this: how long did she still have?

"She's sleeping," Carla said, squeezing his arm to draw his attention back to her. Sam turned from the glass reluctantly, but when he did she went on, "Don't force her to stay awake. But talk to her. She can still hear you. If she does wake up and says she's thirsty, we've got ice chips. Just hit the call button and we'll bring them."

Sam nodded, but he barely heard anything she was saying. He just wanted to get inside.

"She's probably going to be disoriented and restless, but don't force her to stay put. Try and talk her into it. If she won't listen, let us know."

"Call button," Sam said faintly.

"That's right." Giving his arm another squeeze this time a gentle, supportive one Carla released his arm. "Go."

Swallowing thickly, Sam slid open the door and slipped inside.

There was a faint smell in the room one he knew all too well. The job of being a cop was saturated with it, a smell not unlike raw hamburger that had been left in the sun to thaw for a little too long.

It was the smell of death.

Sam pushed the smell aside out of habit as he slipped onto the chair beside her bed. Someone had taken away the stool at some point, but he couldn't remember when. He reached out and took her hand. Her skin was mottled and discoloured, and her hand was cold, almost icy to the touch.

"Andy," he said softly, giving her hand a little squeeze, "It...It's Sam. I'm here, okay? I'm here. And I promise I'm not going to leave you again, okay? I promise, I won't ever leave you again." He turned to look at her face, that beautiful, warm, familiar face. In the intermittent silence between the beeps of her cardiac monitor, he could hear her gurgling faintly; yet another a sign that her body couldn't take care of itself any more.

He went on, "I'm sorry I left before. I had to do something. It was stupid, but I had to, Andy. I don't want to lose you. But I couldn't do what I had planned. I just...couldn't do it. It wouldn't have made a difference. But I think I should tell you anyway." He ran his thumb over her fingers, back and forth, wanting her to wake up and smile at him and laugh at how much of a wreck he was.

But she didn't. Andy didn't move at all.

So Sam kept talking.

"You know McNally," he said, surprised to find his voice thick and the words hard to come by, "I had always wanted us to get married." He forced a laugh, hoping it would either clear his throat or drive away the hot tears burning his eyes. "I kind of had it all planned out. Not the wedding that was supposed to be your thing but where we'd live, how many kids we'd have…"

He had to stop again. Sam took a deep, steadying breath. Closing his eyes tight, he rested his forehead against her cold fingers.

"I wanted at least two, " he went on. "A boy and a girl, but I'd be ok if you wanted more. A dog, and a house in the suburbs. No white picket fence, though, too cliche. We'd have six-foot cedar, like I always wanted growing up, out back so I could build a tree house for the kids. And we'd have a big patio with one of those fire pits, so we could all make s'mores in the summer. Even though those type of yards are hard to come by in Toronto." Sam looked at Andy again. She was barely breathing, her chest rising and falling only shallowly. It looked like she wasn't breathing at all.

He looked away, swallowing thickly and gritting his teeth. He hated himself for having waited so long to say these things to her. He hated that he had had to wait till the last possible minute to tell her everything that he had thought about her for the past few years.

And he hated that there was nothing more he could do but sit there and wait for her to die.

The minutes ticked by, marked by the twitching second hand on the clock in the hall. Sam watched it, counting off the beeps of the cardiac monitor as he stared hard at the clock. The beeping filled his ears with its incessant sound; the rhythmic beeping that let him know that, beyond all appearances, Andy was still alive.

Something changed in the rhythm. Sam snapped his head over to look at her. He listened, jaw clenched so tight he wouldn't have been surprised if it broke under the pressure.

The beeping started to slow.

No. No, no, no, no. Not yet, please, God, not yet. He pressed his free hand over his eyes. The other was still holding on to one of hers. Not yet, please, I'm not ready to live without her. I can't live without her. I need her, oh, God, I need her, please...

The beep became a whine, loud and grating in his ears and not the sound it should be making. Sam tightened his grip on her cold, cold, icy fingers.

Sam heard someone come in, but he didn't look to see who it was. The whine stopped with the click of a flipped switch, and a startlingly deep silence fell on the room. Sam tightened his grip on Andy's hand, but otherwise didn't move.

He heard the nurse leave, and he pulled his hand off of his eyes.

Andy was lying still on the bed. The monitors all around her head were off now, for the first time in a month, their dark screens distorting and throwing back her and Sam's reflections.

Sam's throat and chest both tightened. His eyes burned his vision swimming. He tried looking away, but that didn't help, and all he saw was a blurry figure standing outside. He couldn't tell who it was, and frankly he didn't care.

He leaned forward, resting his head against Andy's stomach.

And Sam Swarek cried.

* * *

><p><strong>The End. D': I'M SORRY!<br>Its my birthday today and welp its been kinda depressing so I thought I`d update.**  
><strong>I'm kinda one of those silly writers who loves writing stories that involve death and sadness, there are to much happy stories on here there needs to be some depression :P God, I'm a horrible human being -_- But I tell you now my other story Years will not be THIS deprssing I promise!<strong>

**So yeah I hope you guys liked the story even if it made you cry and I am SOO SORRY if it did! It nearly made me cry hearing you guys say you cried in previous reviews I was like AW I'M SORRY! **

**I will admit I cried writing it! **

**Welp, it is nearly two o'clock in the morning now and I JUST finished editing this chapter and my eyes/head are burning in pain (Maybe a bit from the coffee too but hey) and I hope you guys liked the story and review giving me your thoughts or hate and pain, I love hearing from you! :3 **

**Much Love! -StolenRookie**


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